Chapter 17

Nicholas drew in a nervous breath. He tried to drag his eyes away from Miss Rowland, but he found that he could not. Her soft hair glowed in the candlelight, the long lilac gown accenting her soft curves and making her eyes seem even brighter. Her dress was simple and unembellished, and it suited her well—unfussy and pretty at once. The smell of her—roses and lavender—still set his head spinning. He grinned at her, taking another long breath in, and trying to be calm.

"I trust I'm not too late," Miss Rowland murmured. She seemed nervous, her posture tense, voice tight.

"Not at all," he said swiftly, eager to put her at her ease. "We've only just assembled there ourselves. We are all eager to see you," he added.

Miss Rowland stiffened visibly, and he smiled inwardly. It seemed astonishing that anyone should be nervous of meeting his family—but then, he knew what fine people his family were. Miss Rowland turned to her chaperone, who was standing a little behind them in the foyer.

"I will be well, Judy," she murmured. "You may take the coach home."

"Of course, Miss Rowland." The chaperone beamed and curtseyed.

Nicholas watched the chaperone, Judy, walk to the front door, feeling a warm fondness towards her. She was very accommodating—perhaps overly so, but he appreciated it. He might never have had the opportunity to talk to Miss Rowland as sincerely as he had if she'd had a different chaperone.

They walked slowly up the stairs.

His mother was coming down as they went up, with Henry and the girls just behind her. His heart soared as Mama beamed and dropped a small curtsey to Miss Rowland when she reached the landing.

"Miss Rowland! Welcome. I'm delighted to be able to have you here with us tonight." Her voice was soft.

"Thank you, Lady Aldford."

Miss Rowland's voice was tight and strained. Nicholas smiled with encouragement. He knew what it felt like to be scared of meeting people. He felt scared every time he went anywhere. Behind Mama, Henry bowed low, eyes twinkling warmly as he greeted her.

"Good evening, Miss Rowland. A pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you," Miss Rowland murmured shyly.

Nicholas' gaze moved to Clarissa and Marcia, who approached eagerly, pushing their way forward towards Miss Rowland.

"Welcome, Miss Rowland!" Clarissa greeted her expansively.

"Very pleased to have you here, Miss Rowland," Marcia said warmly.

They all three of them curtseyed at once. Nicholas bit his lip to hide his smile. His sisters were slightly shorter than Miss Rowland, who was not particularly tall, and Clarissa wore pale green while Marcia wore a pinkish lilac gown.

"I'm pleased to meet you," Miss Rowland said shyly.

They all looked at each other in shy silence.

Henry beamed. "Come on, then, Miss Rowland," he said in a warm voice. "Please join us in the drawing-room."

Nicholas stood back to let the ladies go first and they all moved slowly up the stairs. Miss Rowland, her slight form clad in the soft lavender gown, seemed small and graceful in the big, imposing house.

It was customary to settle in the drawing room to talk before dinner. They all settled down there, perching awkwardly on the chairs around the tea-table. Nicholas felt his breath tighten in his throat. He hated awkward moments—he never had the faintest idea what to do. He glanced at his mother, but she was looking at Miss Rowland. Henry was fetching brandy for himself, and Marcia and Clarissa were sitting shyly, huddled at one end of the table.

"Do you play the pianoforte?" Miss Rowland asked Marcia and Clarissa. Her sweet, genuine tone instantly warmed the atmosphere. Nicholas let out a relieved breath as the conversation started. He felt grateful to Miss Rowland.

"I do," Marcia said in a quiet tone.

"Oh, how lovely," Miss Rowland replied warmly. "I like to play too. Beethoven is my favourite composer."

"I like Mozart," Marcia answered softly.

"I like Scarlatti," Clarissa told them promptly, her voice loud in the sudden silence. They were all silent for a moment, then they all giggled. Nicholas smiled to himself. He hadn't ever seen his sisters accept someone as instantly as they had accepted Miss Rowland.

"I hope you'll all play for us later, ladies," Henry said fondly. "Even you, Clarissa, though I know you don't care for it much."

"I like listening," Clarissa told him with a radiant grin.

They all chuckled.

"Shall we go downstairs for dinner?" His mother asked softly. "I believe one of the courses is a souffle, and our cook would be most upset if it were to flop."

"I like souffle," Clarissa commented as she and Marcia hurried to the door.

"And there's milk pudding for dessert," Marcia informed Miss Rowland as they all went into the hallway. Nicholas walked with Mama and Henry.

"She's lovely," Mama whispered as they went down the stairs. "Interesting and pretty."

"Thank you, Mama," Nicholas whispered back, heart glowing with warmth. "Thank you."

They drifted down the stairs. Miss Rowland, Marcia, and Clarissa were already in the dining room. When Nicholas walked in, they were standing together before a painting. Nicholas felt his heart soar, hearing them giggle as they looked up at the horse shown in it.

"It's too big," Marcia said. "The horse, that is."

"The rider's tiny," Clarissa added. "All you see is this enormous horse, whenever you look at it. The proportions are all wrong." She giggled.

Miss Rowland smiled. "I think the artist was more interested in the horse than the person on it," she said softly.

Clarissa laughed. "It is called "the prize racehorse" so I suppose so," she admitted with a smile.

"I think our great-grandfather commissioned it," Marcia explained softly. "He was very supportive of the local horse-breeders."

"Girls?" Mama called them. "Should we sit down for dinner?"

They all settled down at the dinner table. Mama and Henry were at the ends of the table, Miss Rowland across from Nicholas and Clarissa beside him. Marcia sat next to Miss Rowland. Nicholas beamed at both his sisters as they engaged her in conversation—he was grateful to them for accepting her so instantly, but he also wasn't really surprised. Miss Rowland was a warm, kind person and so were they. It was no wonder they liked one another without hesitation.

"Please bring the first course, Mr. Haldon," Mama swiftly instructed the butler where he waited in the doorway.

The first course appeared. The soup was excellent, a fine one of carrots and fennel, and Nicholas glanced across the table, watching Miss Rowland as she ate. She was neat and delicate, but he could see she was enjoying the food and he smiled to himself. Perhaps his guesses for the menu were right.

Course followed course as a souffle made its appearance, then several dishes accompanied the roast fish. The dishes were all placed in the center of the table in the French style for the guests to help themselves.

"This fish is excellent," Henry commented.

"I will tell the cook," Mama said with a smile.

"It's all very good; thank you," Miss Rowland murmured. Nicholas gazed over at her, feeling a sudden ache in his heart. She was eating heartily, her hair glowing in the candlelight. She looked much more at ease here, listening as Mama told an amusing anecdote about going shopping with the girls. She was relaxed and direct and funny and he gazed at her, feeling amazed.

Dessert was delicious, the rice pudding thick, creamy and flavorful as he'd hoped it would be, and it was followed by cheese and fruit and coffee. Nicholas leaned back in his chair, feeling rather full. At home, he dined more simply, and he wasn't used to a full dinner of many courses anymore.

"Let's play something," Clarissa asked as they made their way to the drawing room.

"Whist?" Henry offered, going over to a cupboard to fetch cards. Clarissa shook her head.

"No! Let's play charades," she begged. "Miss Rowland is here! We don't often have someone to play charades with."

Mama glanced at Nicholas uncomfortably. He hated any sort of game where he might be the center of attention. He was sure Miss Rowland would be the same. To his surprise, though, she answered.

"I'd be glad to join in," she told Clarissa warmly. "But mayhap first let's play the pianoforte. We did promise Lord Aldford, after all."

Nicholas felt tenderness flood him. She must have noticed Marcia longed to play the piano and was making sure they all had a pleasant evening. He beamed at Miss Rowland, but she was already going to the piano.

"I'll turn the pages," she offered.

"Will you go first?" Marcia asked shyly. "We'd love to hear you play."

"Very well," Miss Rowland replied gently. She settled down at the piano, a book of Mozart sonatas propped up before her.

Nicholas watched with interest as she steadied herself, focusing on the music. Her back was straight, her face tense with intense concentration and a small frown between her brows. Then, placing her hands on the keys, she started to play.

Nicholas shut his eyes as the sweet, lyrical melody flowed through the room. Intricate and lovely, it was as sweet as the scent of springtime blowing in through the half-open window. He sat back and let it transport him to another place and time when he was a child and carefree, and he'd run and played in summer woods.

He opened his eyes to gaze at Miss Rowland. The candles that stood on the pianoforte to light up the music played across her hair, making warm highlights. Her eyes were almost shut, her focus inward as she poured her emotions into the piece. He watched her, heart melting with the tenderness he felt for her.

The tone of the music changed, going from somber and serious to playful and light again, and then to grand, lyrical chords in the finale. She lifted her hands with slow grace from the keys. Henry clapped enthusiastically and Nicholas was glad to join him. He'd been too shy to applaud her, not sure how she'd respond.

She smiled, a blush glowing in her pale cheeks.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Marcia? Do you want to play next?"

"Yes, please," Marcia agreed quietly.

She went to sit at the piano and Nicholas watched affectionately as they swapped; Miss Rowland turning the pages for Marcia to play. Clarissa was playing cards with Henry, and Mama sat listening to the music. Marcia was also a fine pianist, Nicholas acknowledged as Beethoven's music filled the room. She and Miss Rowland would have a lot to discuss together.

"That was beautiful," Clarissa admitted as they applauded Marcia's playing. "Now can we please, please do some charades?"

Everyone laughed. Nicholas smiled fondly. His sisters were irrepressible. They both looked at Mama hopefully and Mama looked at Nicholas a little helplessly. He inclined his head. It was just family, after all. No-one was going to judge him if he made a fool of himself. He still prayed inwardly that he wouldn't have to have a turn.

"Very well," Mama agreed. "Let's play charades."

"I'll go first!" Clarissa declared.

"We knew that," Henry teased her fondly.

Clarissa pouted and they laughed. Mama and Marcia settled on the chaise-longue. Miss Rowland was seated in between them.

Clarissa cleared her throat, waiting for silence.

"Now I will begin," she announced.

Nicholas grinned. He watched as she began miming the name of book or play for them to guess. She waved her hands dramatically, then lifted her cupped, empty palms up into the air.

"Again, please," Henry instructed, frowning theatrically.

Clarissa rolled her eyes but repeated the gesture.

"Is it a play called, "I flap my hands"?" Henry asked.

"No!" Clarissa said in mock-annoyance, making a face at him. Henry laughed. She repeated the gestures.

" Much Ado about Nothing !" Marcia shouted out the name of a Shakespeare play. Clarissa whooped joyfully.

"Yes! It is! Your turn, Marcia. That was good."

Nicholas leaned back, watching as the next charade unfolded. Marcia enacted what looked like putting on a top-hat and a coat, then pointed out of the window as if at something a long distance away. They all sat silently.

Marcia repeated the act several times, making one or two changes each time, but still they all remained unable to guess.

"Is it Two Gentlemen of Verona ?" Miss Rowland asked softly.

"Yes," Marcia answered shyly.

"Your turn!" Clarissa yelled.

"We're right here. We can hear you," Mama chided gently.

"Sorry, Mama." Clarissa said contritely. "I was just excited that it's her turn."

"I know," Mama said with a smile.

Clarissa grinned back, eyes sparkling, totally unabashed. Nicholas smiled at Miss Rowland. She walked up to the front of the room. She took a deep breath, visibly nervous. He felt his back tense, anxiety for her flooding through him, but then his heart burst with pride as she started to enact a title. She must be so shy, acting in front of total strangers, but she was willing to do it.

She put out her hand as if receiving money, then passed something to an imaginary person.

"A shopkeeper?" Clarissa guessed.

Miss Rowland nodded, tilting her head as if to indicate that the guess was almost right, but not quite. She repeated the action, then pointed out of the window, as Marcia had done.

"Shopkeeper...? It's The Merchant of Venice !" Mama called excitedly.

"Yes!" Miss Rowland grinned.

His mother had to go next. Henry guessed her charade almost instantly, and they gave him a forfeit, since he didn't want to act either. He had to stand on the terrace in the cold for a minute. He came in, grinning, and settled down by the fire.

Nicholas chuckled and Mama laughed too, her eyes sparkling. He hadn't seen his mother look so happy in a long while. For that matter, he hadn't seen his entire family having such fun for a long time, either.

Miss Rowland stayed for another hour, and then she glanced up at the clock.

"Is it already ten o' clock?" she asked, looking nervously at Mama.

"Yes. Must you return home?"

"I'm afraid so," Miss Rowland said softly. "The coach will return to fetch me soon."

"A pity," Henry said with a grin.

"Yes," Marcia added.

"We're having such a nice evening," Clarissa observed. "You have to come and visit again."

Miss Rowland smiled. "Thank you, Clarissa. I would like that."

She stood, thanking his mother and Henry for the dinner. Nicholas stood to escort her downstairs. She curtseyed and said farewell to his parents and his sisters begged her to visit again.

"We had such a diverting evening," Marcia told Miss Rowland.

"Please come soon," Clarissa implored.

Nicholas grinned. "I'm sure Miss Rowland will visit soon," he promised. Miss Rowland smiled at them warmly.

"I had a lovely evening," she told them, her voice low and warm.

He walked her down the stairs to the entrance foyer and then out onto the terrace. The Rothendale coach was already there waiting for her, and he felt a stab of disappointment. It was one thing sharing her with his family, but he'd been hoping for time to talk with her unobserved.

"Thank you," Nicholas murmured as he took her hand. "Thank you for a lovely evening." His voice was tight. Her touch was like fire.

"I had a lovely evening," she said softly. "Thank you."

Heat flooded through him at her smile. He ached to have her stay a little longer, to be able to thank her properly for the diverting evening. She smiled at him, and he beamed back.

"It was truly lovely to have you visit us," Nicholas told her, wanting her to linger just a little longer with him. "I never saw my sisters enjoy themselves so much."

"I thank you for a very enjoyable evening, Lord Blackburne."

"Nicholas," he corrected automatically. "Please, call me Nicholas?" It felt so wrong to have her address him formally. She'd touched his heart as no-one else ever had. She should at least use his first name.

"Nicholas," she repeated. The sound of it was like music. "And please, call me Bernadette." Her cheeks went bright red as she spoke.

"Bernadette," he murmured, heart full of tenderness. She looked up into his eyes, her gaze wide and surprised and it was almost impossible to resist bending down and pressing his lips to her soft, pink mouth. He drew in a breath for courage and pressed his lips to the back of her hand instead. Her soft skin was like silk, the scent of lavender making his head dizzy. She gasped in surprise.

"Goodnight, Bernadette," he murmured, voice husky.

She stared up at him. "Goodnight, Nicholas."

He helped her up into the coach. It rolled into the street a few seconds later, the evening sky starry overhead. He watched as it disappeared into the street, heart thudding with the feeling of her soft, scented hand and the intensity of her smile.

"What a lovely girl," Mama murmured as Nicholas went back indoors.

"She is," he said softly. She truly was lovely, and he had enjoyed each second and couldn't wait to see her again soon at Grandmother's evening party.